Before the cake was even served, I saw something I shouldn't have seen. The restaurant Zhao Mingyu booked was a private French restaurant in the east of the city. According to him, he had made a reservation a month in advance and had a seat that could see the night view of the entire river outside the floor-to-ceiling windows. I put on makeup for forty minutes and put on the apricot dress he gave me. When I stood at the door of the box, I was still thinking that this is probably the best thing I have done since I was twenty-eight years old. Then through the crack in the door, my best friend Song Wanqing was sitting on his lap. Her red lips were pressed against his earlobe. He put one hand around her waist and the other hand unbuttoned the top button of her shirt. The light in the room was very soft and the sound was playing jazz. The atmosphere was so ambiguous that it was like a TV drama. I was stunned for two seconds. The first thought that came to my mind was not anger and absurdity. We have been together for four years, and I have had three of them every time. I always find it expensive. This time, I suddenly took the initiative to say that the average person in the family is two thousand. I thought I was a transgender. My phone vibrated. The message I sent five minutes ago: "Happy birthday Tang! I will have dinner with my client tonight and I will make up for it tomorrow!"
